Historian of My Existence
My memories are the building blocks of my history. - March 8th, 2022
For the first part of our life all of our decisions are made for us. Including our birth. We didn't ask to be here, we just became. One day. Without our consent. - March 17, 2022
I am a very indecisive person.
(just figuring out how to begin this post has taken me way too much time and energy)
It dawned . . .
Life might feel like it just happens and we have to maneuver around the obstacles, figure out how to stay afloat and stay sane at the same time. But we always hold the reigns, whether we see that or not. - March 10, 2022
Lately I have been teaching myself to "see" the reigns. Acknowledge that I am holding them, and have the . . .
Posted in: my journal
Do it uncomfortable...
Lately I have become obsessed with mental blocks. Specifically, my own.
My entire life I've had passionate aspirations... I want to be a writer, a photographer, an artist, a "creative". And I'm very curious about my resistance. That thing I can't quite reach.
I try. I stop. I start again. I stop. I try once more.
I . . .
Thirty-one years ago I completely detached myself from society for a brief, exhilarating two and a half months.
I was young and rebellious traveling the State of Victoria with my reckless boyfriend, 8-years my senior. I must have looked a sight, but with no mirrors came no worries.
My jeans torn, hair unbrushed, feet more . . .
Well, 2020 knocked me out cold. Not sick, I just fell silent. My processing system went down.
I of course was not alone, literally everyone in the world was effected in one way or another. For me it killed my writing, my creativity. I could barely think straight. And the worst part being that I had just announced publicly (with zealous . . .
Posted in: my journal
My brain, my life, my existence has been unraveled, scrambled, and muted.
Where words used to flow a dry river bed now exists.
The gravity of what has happened to the world, our economies, the hopes and dreams of billions, finally hit home.
Just days ago the weight of it all lay heavy on my spirit. The thought of dashed . . .